Motel Diaries
by Pokie4life
Summary: A young housekeeper finds herself face to face with a part of the Fox River 8 while he's on the run, using his newfound DB Cooper fortune as a means to lay low and hide in an extravagant, private motel floor. She must try to keep her boss happy by keeping the guest happy. And that meant doing whatever he wanted. Will she survive?


**Soooo I started working at a Best Western a few weeks ago, and my mind tends to wander with the job being so quiet and all. I started imagining myself in different situations on the job, and including with a certain inmate from the coolest TV show I've seen in a WHILE! So, I'm a sick lil monkey with writers block and decided to put my imagination onto paper.**

 **This could be more than a one shot if people like it.**

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The halls were peacefully quiet today, the building still and silent for the majority of it. Aside from the sound of the fountain centered in the middle courtyard, the building was mute. I hauled my stocked cart through the corridor, the carpeting muffling the rolling of the wheels. I had a special room marked down on my chart for today, one that I've never had before in the last few months I've worked here. This was a special, private suite for the richer guests that just so happened to stumble into our 'fine' establishment. It was never used, just sitting upstairs collecting dust with washed bedding and towels waiting to be used. It was up on the highest floor. It was blocked from public access, the only people allowed on the said floor being staff, and any mentioned personnel the guest had written in the check-in logs for the front desk to process. Needless to say, it was an isolated, and rather expensive, level of the motel.

I was told this guest wasn't to be disturbed under any circumstances aside from housekeeping and requested room service. He must really like his privacy. As I stepped into the elevator, and pressed the top button on the stubby tower of floors, my mind wandered to what this guest must've been, or who. Perhaps he was an established CEO of a corporation passing through the desert, or a famous celebrity on tour. My palms started to sweat a little, and I peered at my reflection in the silver metal of the elevator door. I frowned at my sweaty face and loosened bun atop my head, stray hairs sticking out in disarray in the hot, muggy air. I pulled the elastic from the knot, and shook my long, blonde hair out from its prison, freeing it of its twisted coil. It showered down my backside in a curtain of wavy gold, reaching down past my waist and tickling the back of my thighs. Well, it would've if my work pants weren't covering my skin. I had seconds to spare before the elevator doors opened, so I rushed to twist the handfuls of locks over my shoulder, holding the brown hair elastic between my teeth, and quickly twisted it back up at the back of my head. I didn't have my hair clip with me today, so the mass of hair hung heavily at the nape of my neck, insulating the sweat and heat radiating from my skin. What I wouldn't give for an ice pack, or a winter breeze to miraculously blow through. It wasn't as fancy or neat as I would've liked it to be, but at least the flyaways were tamed.

There came a ding as the lift arrived at the floor, and I used my key to unlock and open the sliding doors. There wasn't any carpeting on this floor, but concrete. It was out on a balcony circling the courtyard in the open air. There weren't many rooms on this floor, only a handful of doors could be seen around the perimeter. The breeze felt amazing up here, shaded from the Nevada sun. It was an upgrade from the weak AC we had puttering through the hallways below I had to admit, and the view over the courtyard wasn't too bad to look at either. You could see everything from up here.

I wiped a bead of sweat from my head with the back of my hand, and continued pushing the cart forward. The wheels rolled much smoother on the solid, smooth flooring, taking less effort on my arms and legs to push the damned thing. Mugs and glasses jingled on the bottom shelf, announcing my presence to anyone potentially listening. I took a look at my clipboard, running my eyes down the list of rooms up here. One had a checkmark beside it, with a printed S/O next to the number, labeling it as a "stay over". There was also three distinctive letters in a second column that did nothing to settle my nerves, and made me pray I didn't do anything to embarrass myself or the motel's image. Randy would have my head if I soiled his cash cow opportunity.

V.I.P.

This guy was the real deal, and I followed the numbered rooms down the balcony with a knot growing larger and larger in the back of my throat.

"408, 409, 410…" I whispered to myself, looking up at the numbered nailed to the middle of the door. This was it, and I swallowed the dryness accompanying the knot. _"Don't screw this up!"_ I mentally told myself, and with slight hesitance, I knocked on the door.

"Housekeeping!" I chimed, awaiting the guest's response. I waited for a few seconds, yet I received no answer. Maybe he didn't hear me, or perhaps he was out? I tried again, a little more confident this time. "Housekeeping!" I repeated, a little louder this time. Still, no answer.

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath waiting, and sucked in a cooling, relaxing gulp of sweet air. He wasn't here, thank god. I was never great with people anyways, too shy to talk or look them in the eye. I was grateful this stay over was absent, and I took the master key that dangled over my breast, and opened the door with a soft click of the lock. The door swung open, and immediately I felt a wave of cold air wash over me, hitting my sweaty, gleaming skin like a brick wall. Damn, these rooms were lucky! Randy was cheap enough to keep AC units struggling on their last legs from the 80's around in the hallways and regular rooms. Yet, had the extra cash lying around to install modern, high tech AC's in the more expensive rooms? Bastard…

I pulled my linen cart so it stood right outside the door, giving me access to my supplies and keeping any by passers out of the room. I wedged the door open with a foot stop, and turned around to survey the room to see what I was dealing with. My jaw dropped to the floor at the size and design of the room. It looked more like a small apartment than a motel room! The bed was pushed to the far wall with dark wooden headboards reaching to the ceiling, the posts thick in diameter and had artistic vines carved into their structure. The plush carpeting was white, and the walls were a royal, dark red. Almost like a good red arbour wine, or fresh blood. A Dutch porcelain vase decorated with blue flowers sat in the center of the center coffee table in front of a dark leather couch, a small bouquet of white roses displayed inside. I could smell them from here, and they smelled divine. A dark wooded work desk with a leather computer chair sat on the far side of the room by the window, the white curtains drawn closed and the sunlight dimly filtering through.

I had to say, Randy sure could hire an interior decorator!

The cold air was heavy, and just felt like luxury. I grabbed my spray bottle from the cart with a white rag, and began to dust the surfaces while quietly humming to myself the melody of "Sweet Dreams". The wood of the coffee table was carefully crafted and polished, not a single dent or scratch on it. I couldn't help myself, and buried the tip of my nose into one of the snow white flowers. The smell filled my body with a tranquil, cooling feeling, like a sip of a Bacardi and Pepsi drink. It relaxed me, and filled my mind with a sense of bliss. I made sure they had plenty of water before moving on to dust the headboard and straighten the ruffled and tossed bedsheets. The king sized mattress looked huge, comfortable, and extremely tempting. I had to fight myself not to just flop on my backside on it, not with the front door wide open for someone to see. I grabbed all of the pillows littered around the bed, and began to fold the edges crisply and neatly. It was then I caught a whiff of something new as I folded the fabric. It came from the pillow casing, and I took a whiff again. It was masculine, like a rich cologne or shampoo. The smell was inviting, and smelled really good. As I started to fold it, I head a dull thud from somewhere around the corner down a short hallway. My ears perked, and my eyes widened a fraction. I turned my head towards the sound. Was somebody else here? I strained my ears to listen closely, waiting for another sound to happen. Nothing happened after what felt like ten seconds, and I quickly folded the pillows with enveloped corners, straightened and tucked the loose sheets under the mattress, and smoothed out any wrinkles or creases along the quilt's surface. You could bounce a quarter off the surface of this bed, and I smiled at my handiwork.

Picking up my spray bottle, I stuffed my rag into my back pocket, and went to move towards the bathroom down the hallway. Slowly but surely, I could hear a certain sound that I assumed to be ambient noise earlier grow louder the closer I came to the bright white door, and it was here I noticed there was light shining from under the doorway. Had he left the fan on and the lights? I thought that might've been the case, it wasn't uncommon for guests to leave the bathroom fixtures on when they left. But no, this was a louder noise, something like running water. My eyes widened a slit, and a tint of red spread over my cheeks.

Oh shit, he was in the shower! That's why he didn't answer the door!

There came a blissful sigh from the other side of the locked door, and the squeaking of metal as the shower knobs were twisted and turned off. The ambient noise of running water seized, and I could hear the curtains draw back. Crap, he was coming out! There was no way I wanted to stick around for what was about to come though, the embarrassment on my part would be too much for to take! I jogged down the hallway and went to pack up my cart. However, I was pulled to a halt in my tracks when I saw the rag from my back pocket slipped out, and landed on the floor a few meters behind me in the center of the suite! I let out a small eek, and snapped back around to retrieve it. It was then I heard the bathroom door creak open, and a cloud of white steam billow out of the room. A silhouette of a man came into view from the bright white lights behind him, and I felt my soul leave my body. I had no idea what to do then, no way would I get out without him knowing now! As I heard his footsteps approach the main room, I did the only thing I could.

Twirling around before he stepped into the room, I resumed my gentle humming and wiped the fixtures like I never knew he was there. I heard his steps come to a halt, and an audible, light gasp slipped past his lips. It didn't sound like from shock or fright, more like surprise.

"Well, isn't this a delight?" I heard him say behind, a southern drawl of an accent caressing his vocal cords.

My ears perked at the tone, a little intrigued by the accent. Texan? No, Alabamian. I slowly straightened my hunched posture, and turned to look at the guest. My cheeks must've flushed a bright cherry red because the man was standing there in nothing but a white, fluffy hotel towel that hung off his hips. His head was tilted to the side, showing off a receding hairline and high definitive cheekbones. Droplets of water dripped from his messily bleached hair, rolling down his pale and defined torso. I snapped my head away as his dark brown eyes met mine, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He chuckled at my prudish reaction, and he raised his hands up in apologetic surrender.

"Ah, sorry 'bout my lack of wardrobe, honey. You've caught me at a quite awkward moment" he mused, taking a few steps toward his closet. I kept my eyes focused on the corner off the room behind me at I heard him open the sliding door, and take something off of a coat hanger. A shuffling of fabric could be heard, and I was trying so hard to calm my burning cheeks. I could feel my already sweaty face palpitate more, and I wanted nothing more than to douse my head in a bucket of cold water. I didn't even hear the shower running! I'm such an idiot!

"Alrighty, honey pie, you can look now. I'm decent!" I heard the man say, and I swallowed the grape-sized knot plaguing my neck. I shyly looked back towards him, and he had slipped on one of the hotel-issued robes, tying the strap around his waist securely, yet had a deep V going down his torso that exposed a lot of chest. I felt like I could drink a gallon of water right now, and I coughed awkwardly.

"S-Sorry about this" I said meekly, a shameful frown tugging my lips. "I didn't even hear you in the shower. I…I thought this room was empty to clean."

The man's head tilted a bit to the side, and gave an understanding, humoured grin. He gave a warm chuckle, shaking his head gently. "It's alright dearie, no harm done. It could happen to anybody. We're only human."

The man's voice was soft, his tone tender and welcoming. Hearing those kind and assuring words started to put my anxious mind at ease, and I could relax a little. I gave a relived sigh, and returned him the same content smile he gave me. "That's very kind of you, thank you. And, I'm sorry again. I'll be sure to listen more closely from now on."

He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of the robe, and leaned against the red wall, still giving me that gentle grin. He looked around the room, inspecting my handiwork. The fixtures and surfaces shined with the absence of the dust, the cleaner leaving a gentle lilac aroma. He turned to the made up bed, and slid his hand over the flat, crisp surface. "You've done a mighty fine job here, honey" he praised, his rich accent practically making the words come out as a purr. "What's your name?"

My name? No guests have ever really taken the time or the interest in learning a housekeeper's name. Well, at least not to me. I had to say, this man was like a breath of fresh air in comparison to the sloppy, disinterested zombies we get around here. I raised my head with a content, curt tilt, and looked him in the eyes. "Leslie."

He seemed to like the name, a light groan enacting from the back of this throat. "Hmm, Les-lay" he repeated in a whisper, putting his own southern touch to it. It rolled off his tongue, and he seemed to like the feeling. "Beautiful."

I had to supress another light blush from coming over my sheening cheeks, itching a patch of skin on my elbow. A small smile crept on my lips, and it wasn't easy to hide. My eyes shyly fell to the ground as I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. I heard some kind of wet squeak come from his direction, but I didn't see him move. It caught my attention, and I looked back up at him with a sort of perplexed stare. He rolled his head back to look at me, a new look in his eyes with this lowered angle of his face. I couldn't quite place my finger on the expression it reminded me of, but it slightly unnerved me. Within a few seconds, he raised his head once again, and it didn't seem as off-putting.

I took in a steadying breath. Relax girl, it was just the angle.

I cleared my throat, raising my head to look more professional and serious. I was here to do a job. "Well, since you're out of the shower now, would it be alright with you if I cleaned and re-stocked your bathroom? Fresh towels and toiletries?"

He let out a gentle hum of thought, and rolled his head to one side with a gleam in his eye. "That sounds love-eh-ley."

Taking in a deep breath, I stuffed the rag back into my back pocket and grabbed the spray bottle, catching the guest's gaze as I sauntered past. It was here now I realized he had deep, chocolate brown eyes. They were so intense, nearly black. I had to still a hitch in my breath when our stares met, and a jolt of nerves shot up my spine with a cold sweat. I shook my head as I turned into the bathroom, out of his sight. What the hell was that?

I sprayed down the counter tops and toilet first, wiping away any sticky or cloudy residue for a smooth, hygienic feel. It was when I moved onto drying and polishing the shower tiles and metal knobs when I heard a certain pair of footsteps make their home just outside the bathroom door. The man was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with his arms crossed over his half-exposed chest. I turned to look at him over my shoulder out of curiosity, and he returned my confused look with a playful wave. They guy didn't seem to have anything better to do at the moment. Like I don't know, getting dressed? I just shook off his gaze that was glued to my backside, and I distracted myself from it by humming more of Sweet Dreams. The acoustics of the bathroom only amplified my gentle melody meant for my ears only, and it seemed to catch the man's attention.

"What a lovely voice" he commented, slowly closing his eyes to listen to me. "Eurythmics, right?" I shrugged. I knew that they were the original band that sung the song, but I preferred the softer, darker voice of Manson in comparison. "Yeah, but I like Marilyn Manson's version better" I replied, earning a curious tilt of the head. "Manson?" he repeated, his eyebrows raising a fraction. "Who knew blondie had a dark side…" he practically purred. OK, that time was a little more unsettling. But again, I shrugged it off. Drying down the last few water droplets. My rag was soaked, but I stuffed it in my back pocket after ringing it out in the toilet. I waltzed past the surveying guest to retrieve the towels, mat, and toiletries for his bathroom, taking the dirty towels with me and dumping them in the laundry bag at the head of my cart. He never left his spot from the doorframe, stepping to the side to allow me in and out. He watched intrigued as I folded the towels upon his rack, and a small smile seemed to form when I took two of the smaller face towels and folded them into an origami flower in a pot for the little bottles of hair products and lotion to sit in. Now came my 'favourite' part, the floor. Spraying down the white tile, I had to be sure that there wasn't any stray hairs, water droplets, or spots on the tile. Randy warned me that he wanted to strive for absolute perfection when it came to VIP rooms, and if I wanted to keep him happy, I'd do the rooms like the Queen of England was going to stay here. A little over the top I thought, but whatever made the boss happy kept my rent paid and fridge full. I was on my hands and knees, wiping down the tile flooring, reaching out far and low to the ground to scrub every nook and cranny of the surface. The solid flood was hard on my knees, and the reaching was doing absolute wonders to my back. Because arching it in awkward and painful ways made anyone's job exciting, right? There came a sound from behind me. It was that small, wet squeak again. I knew it had come from the man again. Unless we had an infestation of Jell-O mice, there was no one else around. What on earth was he doing to make that sound? It sounded like he was sucking in air, but from what? I hesitantly turned to look behind, and I saw him with a chunk of his lower lip between his teeth. It popped out when I turned, he was trying to hide the fact he did it at all. But, he was a tad too slow. The dude was biting his lower lip at me! OK, that was bordering the line of weird and creepy. I tried to shake it off, but the sound seemed to stick to the back of my skull like a wad of gum, echoing and repeating on a loop. I didn't like it, and tried to focus on my work. "I don't mean to be a bother, miss" I heard him say to me, a light chill running down my back as he addressed me. "But I think my toilet may be leaking. I swore I saw a puddle back there when I was in the shower." I nodded, and leaned around the bowl of the porcelain throne to have a looksee. The forced position was tough on my body, and made me feel like I was a cat getting ready to pounce on something. My head and hands were low to the ground, and my behind was raised in the air. I looked around with my rag, and I didn't know what he was talking about. It was dry as a bone back here. Perhaps he was mistaken? "Mm Hmm" he vocalized, nodding his head with an amused, interested grin painted on his face. "Just like that, a little more…" My head snapped up when I realized the compromising position he was putting me through, and I felt my face grow red hot once again. This time, there was no use hiding or fighting it. My body scrambled to get back on my feet, nearly banging my head off of the toilet bowl. I whirled around to face the guest, his hearty laugh filling the smaller room. I was about to say something to him, something to discipline or insult him, but I bit the inside of my cheek and held my tongue. If I made this man mad, I surely would hear about it from Randy later. And since this man was a VIP guest in one of the most expensive rooms in the motel, I would be risking my job for my pride. I grinded my teeth together, and forced a humoured smile on my face. Whatever made the guest happy made Randy happy. And whatever made Randy happy kept me fed and clothed. I gave him a sarcastic, half-assed laugh. "Very funny" I retorted to him, keeping my insults and angered growls confined in my chest. The man crossed his arms over his chest, and gave me a sly, foxy grin. "Just playing with ya, sweetie." "Leslie" I corrected him, not completely in the mood for his lineup of nicknames he's given me over the short amount of time I've been here. "My name is Leslie." He shrugged his shoulder, and nodded. "Of course, darlin. I apologise if I made you feel uneasy or off. Just trying to have a lil fun. Humor an old man?" I had to take a second or two to breathe, and relax. I had my spray bottle clenched in my hand, lightly trembling. Whether from tension or apprehension of an attack I wasn't sure, but I was ready to use this cleaner as a pepper spray if I needed to. Something deep down inside wanted me to stay on guard, but it was slowly starting to dissipate the longer I studied the man's expression and eyes. He seemed genuinely sorry he made me feel uncomfortable. Though his definition of fun was a little different than my own, he only looked and didn't touch. Anybody could stare at something they thought was appealing, it wasn't against the law to admire somebody's attributes and characteristic. Even if it was someone's…ahem…derrière. So really, he didn't do any harm. I sighed with a small smile, relinquishing my knuckle-whitening grip on the spray bottle, and looked up to him with a jutted out hip, and crossed my arms. The small smile turned to more of a playful smirk, and he mirrored my expression. He raised an arm over his head, and leaned on his forearm on the frame instead of his shoulder, making him appear taller and broad, overshadowing my small 5'5 form. "Very funny" I replied. "I'll be sure to 'humor' you some more if you're around when your room number comes across my sheet again." I went to leave, ducking under his raised arm, and went to go back to my cart still parked outside the front door. It was here I felt a gentle grip grasp my elbow, and hold me from taking another step. I felt my chest flip, and I turned to look at him with a puzzled look. Though deep down, I was extremely unnerved. Shit, maybe I said something I shouldn't have. The playful gleam in his dark eyes never faltered, it only shone brighter with a little anticipation thrown into his mix. "Is that a fact?" he asked in a low drawl of a whisper, cocking an eyebrow with a teasing smirk. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut. What did I get myself into? I played along. Keep Randy happy. Keep Randy happy. "Maybe" I started, thinking on how to tone down his hopeful gaze. "But…you know I'm not the only housekeeper in this motel, right? You'll have other girls come to clean your room, you know." I finished, hoping that this would put a dent in his plans on seeing me again in the very near future. His smirk faltered for a moment, but didn't completely fall from his face. The gleam in his eyes flickered, but never faded. Instead, after a few moments of thought, he took a glance to a big black bag that sat in the far corner of his closet where he retrieved his robe from, and then turned his foxy glare back to me. "Oh, we'll see, honey" he teased, locking his dark brown hues with my light blue orbs. The way he said it made the dry lump in my throat return with a vengeance, and a cold, clammy sweat started to moisten the inside of my palms, and chill down the curvature of my spine. His grip on me loosened, and I slipped out of his hand, his fingertips brushing against my soft, lightly tanned skin. I was just about to make a relieving break for the door, when something odd held me back. He knew my name, but I didn't know his. "Um…sir?" I asked, earning his attention with a sly side smile. "W-What do I call you?" The man gave a moment of thought before locking his predatory stare with me, and his playful smile turned to something a little more…sensual? "The name's Clyde. Clyde May. But…you can call me Teddy." 


End file.
